“The track can get heated,” I said. “Trading paint and such.”
“That’s American racing,” Bryce said.
“Those good old boys like to bump a lot. That’s not saying we won’t, but a racer like Reg doesn’t have to bump. He always raced clean and rarely finished less than top five. He was talented behind the wheel.”
I watched the Aussie. “Do you think someone who couldn’t beat him on the track would take him out some other way?”
“Perhaps, but most of my racing mates would want to do it on the race course, not on a deserted mountain road.”
“And you brought him the souped-up super demon,” I said. “No wonder the authorities want to ask you questions.”
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